


The End is Nigh (on hold)

by Bruadarach



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Apocalypse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Demonic Possession, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, End of the World, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hunter Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Possession, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruadarach/pseuds/Bruadarach
Summary: (I'm afraid that I've run into a wall in regards to writing this story. I know I've kept you all waiting for a long time, but in trying to force myself to write I've lost inspiration and my writing has suffered in quality. So, until I'm able to work out the issues and start writing with purpose again, I will be putting this story on hold. In the meantime, I will be working on other stories.Thank you for your patience and understanding.)The story takes place during the final few episodes of season eleven, while Castiel is possessed by Lucifer.More chapters to come. Will add more tags as needed.





	1. Powerless

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how I feel about the title. 
> 
> Warning: sexual abuse. Read at your own discretion.
> 
> 11/12/2016 - 11:43PM: I'm writing chapter two. It will take place from Dean's point of view. It will be posted soon. Thank you for being patient, and thank you for the positive feedback.

It had been several months since Castiel had granted Lucifer access to his mortal form. He had hoped that the king of Hell would act professionally, putting aside past grievances in order to focus on the more present threat of the Darkness, but no such leniency had occurred. He was insufferable, always talking and making idle threats. Castiel was beginning to regret his decision. Even so, he was still convinced that Lucifer was their only chance at stopping the Darkness. He hoped that his assumptions were correct, and that Lucifer had not been lying to him for a free ticket out of the cage.  
  
As for Lucifer, he had been learning a lot about his new host. He was impressed by the angel's strength and loyalty, but what interested him the most was his deepest secret: his love for Dean Winchester. And it wasn't simple puppy love, it was something much deeper. Something much stronger.  
  
_Aww, Cass. It really is endearing. You are so hopelessly in love, and yet so afraid of rejection. It's adorable._  
  
Don't.  
  
_You know I could help you talk to him. I could tell him how you feel._  
  
I said don't.  
  
Castiel was accustomed to these sessions; to Lucifer teasing him - trying to get a rise out of him. It often worked, but when it came to Dean, Castiel was headstrong.  
  
_Why don't we go and pay him a visit?_  
  
Castiel's body began to move without his administration. His lack of control over his own body was becoming frustrating. To not be able to stop yourself - to control your own actions - was maddening. It was torture, and Lucifer reveled in it. Tormenting Castiel had become the King's favorite pastime. He looked forward to any insignificant moment to bother the angel, no matter how much it did, or did not affect him. Normally he would groan, or complain, but this time Castiel was resisting him.  
  
_Now, now, Castiel. Everything is going to be fine._  
  
Such a naughty roommate. He made certain that his authority was present and clear, sending the angel further back into his subconscious. He clicked his tongue, like a disappointed mother would, and shook a finger in the angel's face.  
  
_Now, behave yourself._  
  
Castiel had no choice. Lucifer's strength was far greater than his own. No matter how many times he had tried to subdue the demon, he was always unsuccessful. With an exasperated sigh, he quietly watched, his eyes glaring daggers into Lucifer's back as the demon resumed control. He exited Castiel's room, making his way down corridor after corridor, passing dozens of hallways and doors before arriving in the entryway. He rounded the corner, noticing Sam sitting alone in the library, more than likely continuing his research on Amara. He gave a nod, in case the younger Winchester saw him walk by. To Lucifer's utter joy, Sam was too absorbed in his work to notice him.  
  
_Perfect._  
  
He continued his search for Dean, silently roaming around the bunker. He checked each room he passed, quietly calling for him, but received no response. Eventually, he arrived in the kitchen and, not so surprisingly, found Dean. The Winchester was standing in front of an open cabinet, his eyes searching through it's contents, clearly dissatisfied with his options. The other food depositories in the kitchen were in disarray, their doors swung open and contents in shambles. He had been rifling through the drawers and cabinets in search of a snack, or a leftover beer. One of his usual escapades.  
  
"Dean, are you busy?" Lucifer asked in his best Castiel impression.  
  
"No..." he grumbled, closing the cabinet door. He sighed before taking a seat at the table, his arms crossed in front of him. "Man... there's nothing to eat."  
  
Lucifer tilted his head to the side, perfectly mimicking Castiel's mannerisms and tone of voice as he responded. "There's plenty of food."  
  
"No, I mean... there's nothing I wan to eat."  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
Castiel watched helplessly from within his mind, praying to God that Lucifer wouldn't harm Dean in any way. He had no idea what the demon was up to, but he knew it wasn't good.  
  
"Dean... I have something to confess."  
  
Please... don't...  
  
Dean looked up curiously. "Okay, shoot."  
  
You won't get anything out of this.  
  
"There's something I've been wanting to tell you for quite some time." Lucifer continued.  
  
This ins't worth your time.  
  
But it was; it was very much worth his time. Lucifer was savoring every second, every agonizing moment for Castiel. He had already taken so much. Why not take a little bit more?

  
"I've developed feelings for you."  
  
He said it. He said it before Castiel had ever gotten the chance to say it himself. He had taken his body, and now he had taken the one moment that Castiel had dreamed of. He had taken the vulnerability and nervousness, the pure and raw emotional confession of affection. And, worst of all, he couldn't turn and leave. He couldn't walk away before hearing Dean's rejection.  
  
_You think so little of yourself, Cass. Wait a moment._  
  
Dean didn't look shocked, angry, or horrified. In fact, he looked calm. Castiel studied Dean's features, watching as his brows pursed together in deep thought. The anticipation was eating away at Castiel. He was so fearful of Dean's response that his nerves were getting the better of him, making him queasy. Dean leaned forward, across the table, keeping his voice low. "Promise me you won't repeat this to Sam."  
  
Lucifer's eyes lit up with excitement as he chose his next words carefully. "Of course."  
  
Dean sat back down, his hands clasped together in front of him.  
  
"The truth is..." he began with a sigh. "I've been interested in guys since I was young."  
  
He was clearly nervous, as though he had never admitted this detail about himself to anyone.  
  
"When I was a teenager, I had these... gay porn mags that I kept a secret from Sam and Dad. And almost every time we'd visit a new town I'd develop a crush on a boy or two. Even now, when we take cases, I check out guys at the bars. I've never talked to a guy with the intention of asking him to go and get a beer, or a burger, or anything like that, but it's something I've considered. In fact, it's something I've wanted to ask you for a long time. You've been on my mind a lot, Cass. The truth is I have feelings for you too."  
  
For a moment Castiel forgot about Lucifer. He forgot that Dean couldn't see, or hear him. He forgot that there was a force keeping them separated. In that moment it was only the two of them, locked in that instant where Dean had returned his affections. He was in disbelief. He had dreamed of being with Dean, never once considering that the hunter would share his yearning. He felt weightless, as though he were floating amongst the cosmos. He had never felt such utter bliss.  
  
"You do?" Lucifer replied.  
  
All at once Castiel's fantasy crumbled, shattering around him.  
  
"Yeah." Dean chuckled. He looked over at Cass, who melted when his perfect, green eyes locked onto his. "I'm relieved that I finally told you, and that you feel the same way!"  
  
_Adorable._  
  
Lucifer's tone was sinister, echoing menacingly in Castiel's mind, filling the void with a foreboding aura.  
  
What are you doing?  
  
Lucifer didn't answer. Of course he didn't. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun, now would we? Castiel wanted to scream, to cry, to escape this nightmare.  
  
"So... are we...?" Lucifer acted coy, shy, trying his best to mimic how he thought Castiel would respond.  
  
"Dating?" Dean finished.  
  
Lucifer chuckled, trying his best to appear bashful.  
  
"I'd like that." Dean replied with the kindest smile Cass had ever seen him give anyone, and it was meant for him. For him, not Lucifer. Not this creature who he had so foolishly invited in to his host's body. Not this monster who he was certain was up to no good.  
  
"Can I... kiss you?" Lucifer asked.  
  
No...  
  
Dean gave a hearty laugh, his cheeks tinting with a slight hint of pink. "C'mere."  
  
Lucifer leaned forward, meeting Dean halfway across the table. To his surprise, the demon withdrew, allowing Castiel to take command. His eyes locked with Dean's. At last he was seeing him face to face, and not through a window. It was as though they were in another world, another universe, with no Lucifer, no impending doom. Only the two of them, together. He could feel Dean's breath against his skin, warm and damp. His eyes lowered to Dean's lips, his cheeks flushing at the thought of their taste. Dean came closer and Castiel's breathing hitched, hesitant. Dean smiled and closed the gap.  
  
Castiel melted, emitting a small moan of relief and happiness at his touch. His lips were so soft and plump, everything he'd dreamt they'd be. He tasted like whiskey, and he smelled like old books and the Impala's stuffy interior. Cass' hands shook against the table, becoming clammy and cold. His lips parted and Dean took the invitation, sliding his tongue in to meet with the angel's. Another moan came and went in seconds, Cass unable to breathe as they continued.  
  
He felt aroused, his pants becoming tight as the two of them kissed. He wondered if Dean was enjoying this as much as he was. The older Winchester was enjoying himself, and Lucifer had noticed. Such naughty boys. He saw Dean's arousal, hidden beneath the table, and got a sinister idea. He waited and watched, allowing the two men a few moments to themselves.  
  
Dean placed his hand on the side of Castiel's head and gently ran his fingers through his hair. Cass hummed at his touch and mimicked it, cupping Dean's hand in his own. Dean pulled away, his nose brushing against Castiel's. The angel's eyes opened lightly, enough to see Dean's dilated, green hues gazing lovingly at his own enlarged baby blues. As they parted, a small trail of drool broke between them. They stared at one another, light headed and breathless.  
  
"You're a pretty good kisser, Cass." Dean smiled.  
  
Castiel chuckled, but Dean didn't hear it.  
  
_I think I'll take the reigns again, buddy._  
  
Lucifer pushed Castiel away - far away - and pressed his lips to Dean's once more. Dean smiled at the sudden contact, amused by Castiel's excitement, not knowing that the angel was no longer in control. Lucifer could see Dean's arousal through his jeans and decided to act on it, reaching his hand over to give him a subtle stroke. The moment he touched the fabric, Dean retreated.  
  
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Heh..." He took a moment, catching his breath. "Let's leave it at kissing for now."  
  
"I mean..." Lucifer began. "We could give it a try."  
  
"Oh, no." Dean chuckled. "I'm not ready for that yet. I'd like to get to know you more."  
  
"You've known me for years."  
  
He was slipping up, loosing his mask. His tone was nothing like Castiel's. He was too focused on his scheme to remember his charade.  
  
"No, I mean..." Dean seemed amused by Castiel's (fake) lack of understanding. "I want to let our relationship grow before jumping into bed with you."  
  
"I see."  
  
It was true that Cass was eager to be close with Dean, but the angel knew better than to force his desires onto him. True, they had known one another for years, but he too wanted their relationship to grow. He wanted to reach that moment of devotion and desire together with Dean, and he was glad that the Winchester felt the same way.  
  
"Yeah, that's not gonna work for me." Lucifer stated.  
  
Complete and utter horror overtook Castiel. He knew that Lucifer was cruel, but surely he wasn't planning to...  
  
"What...?" Dean said, sounding uneasy.  
  
"I'm going to make love to you, Dean." Lucifer stated matter-of-factly.  
  
"Cass," he chuckled nervously." While I'd eventually like to sleep with you, I'm not ready just yet."  
  
"Oh I know, and I don't care." Lucifer stood, shrugging his shoulders. "You see, _I'm_ ready, so..."  
  
Dean too stood from the table, stumbling as he moved. His chair fell to the floor as he backed away from Castiel.  
  
"Cass, what's wrong with you, man?"  
  
He walked towards Dean, who was backing up towards the kitchen counter, one hand in front of him as a means to keep Castiel away.  
  
"Cass, stop." he said.  
  
But, the being in front of him wasn't Castiel, and he wasn't listening. Dean's back hit the counter with an audible thud, a look of horror overcoming him as he realized he was cornered. Lucifer pushed him onto the counter, Dean's legs dangling on either side of the angel.  
  
"Cass!" Dean shouted.  
  
Immediately Lucifer's hand shot up, placing a single finger over Dean's mouth. "Shhh." he whispered. "Wouldn't want Sammy to find out, right?"  
  
Castiel felt sick as he watched the scene play out before him. Dean looked absolutely mortified, stunned, shocked... hurt. He couldn't bare to think of what was going through Dean's mind. How his feelings were being toyed with, crumbling and fading into panic and turmoil.  
  
And there was nothing he could do to help him. He was right there, watching all of it, and he was powerless.  
  
Lucifer held both of Dean's hands in one of his own, raising them above the hunter's head. Dean struggled to break free, but the demon was prepared, using his inhuman abilities to keep the hunter in place. He kissed Dean's neck, appreciating the trembling fear than came with his touch. Lucifer chuckled, sliding his free hand to Dean's shirt. He lifted the fabric, revealing the Winchester's stomach and chest. He cooed at the sight, his mouth traveling to nibble on Dean's earlobe. Lucifer's hand then made it's way down to Dean's pants where the arousal was no longer present. Still, he sent his free hand into the hunter's jeans and cupped the hunter's bulge beneath his undergarments, giving it a gentle rub. Dean's breathing hitched.  
  
Stop this!  
  
Castiel cried out, but his words fell on deaf ears, echoing into the silence. Lucifer was far too preoccupied to hear his roommate's demands.  
  
Lucifer returned his hand to Dean's jeans,working the button free. He slid down the zipper, the fabric becoming loose around the Winchester's hips. Lucifer lowered them to Dean's knees and pressed himself in between the hunter's legs, pressing his own arousal closer. Dean's eyes were glossy, his face becoming flushed as he watched, horrified. Lucifer tried to kiss him, but Dean pulled away. The demon clicked his tongue with an audible groan, disappointed with the hunter's lack of enthusiasm.  
  
STOP! NOW!!  
  
Lucifer beamed, a sinister grin crawling it's way onto his face. He pressed a finger to his lips and gave an audible ' _shh_ ' before sending that hand to Dean's lower abdomen. He played with the hunter's trail of hair, following it down and underneath the elastic of his underwear. Dean held his breath, a single tear falling from his eyes.  
  
That was it. That single tear, filled with complete and utter fear was all that Castiel needed to fight back.  
  
He took control.  
  
"No!" Castiel exclaimed, quickly backing away from Dean.  
  
The Winchester's breathing quickened as he watched Castiel stumbled through the kitchen. The angel's eyes were glowing blue as he fought with Lucifer for control, power surging through his host's form as the two celestial beings clashed. Deep down he knew that Dean would no longer trust him - no longer feel that spark of love that they had shared for a few, fleeting moments - that didn't matter. All that mattered was Dean's safety. If that meant his death at the hands of Lucifer, he would gladly accept it and take the demon down with him.  
  
"No more!" he cried.  
  
He stumbled out of the kitchen, his body colliding into the wall. He cried out in pain, not from the impact, but from the battle going on in his subconscious. He couldn't keep Lucifer in check for much longer. He had to get away from the bunker - far away. He pushed forward, using his hand as a brace against the walls as he walked.  
  
"Teleport us away from here." he commanded.  
  
_Now, Cass-_  
  
"Don't call me that!" he spat. "Get us out of here, now!!"  
  
Lucifer grinned. With what he had done to Dean, he was certain that the Winchester would never trust Castiel again. The angel, one of God's personal favorites, and the hunter who defied all logic and understanding, their tie was severed. Once Amara was dealt with, he could kill Sam and Dean Winchester, the two who had sent him to the cage. He was never returning to that pit again, and with the brothers and their pet out of the way, he would never have to, forever securing his control over Hell and Earth.

_Alright, Castiel, alright. I've had my fun._

Castiel regretted ever having trusted Lucifer; ever having allowed him control. He had manipulated Cass, hurt Dean, and jeopardized their relationship. For one moment he thought he could have Dean forever in his life, as his partner, but then Lucifer took it all away in mere moments. With what that demon had done to Dean there was no way for him to return to the hunter's side. He could never face him again; explain himself for the mistakes he had made - for what Lucifer had almost done.  It was partially his fault and he would never forgive himself.

The angel's body vanished, leaving the bunker in a tense silence.  
  
Dean sat alone in the kitchen, his pants dangling from his ankles. He was disoriented, his body quaking with shock; his mind unable to comprehend what had happened. He didn't move, or speak when his brother came into the room, responding to the commotion. He asked Dean what happened, but the older brother didn't respond. He refused to believe that the creature he had encountered was Cass. The angel he knew and cared for would have never done something so heinous. Still, for a moment, he could have sworn that Castiel had been with him. He wracked his brain, trying his best to make sense of the incident.

"Dean!" Sam cried, snapping the older brother out of his thoughts.

Dean's breathing was shaky as he tried to respond - tried to put together a cohesive sentence.

"It's okay." Sam interrupted. "You don't have to tell me right this second."

The younger brother helped Dean down from the counter top, assisting him in dressing himself and steadying his balance. Dean's stomach churned, knots folding over one another in erratic, ever changing motions, as though he were standing on a boat in a turbulent sea. His skin was pale and cold to the touch, his palms clammy and numb. All at once he became overwhelmed. He felt nauseous, his vision clouding with tears. Sam lifted Dean's arm and placed himself underneath it, trying as best he could to keep his brother stable. 

"Come on." Same grunted as Dean's weight fell against him. "Let's get you to the bathroom."

He couldn't wrap his head around the situation, but Sam knew that something wasn't right.


	2. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait. This chapter ended up becoming much longer than I expected, and it changed drastically from how I had originally written it. It took a long time to edit and proof read.
> 
> I also tried to make it script accurate, taking voice lines and actions from the last few episodes of season eleven and incorporating them into the story as best I could. I hope it all reads well.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: The word 'rape' is mentioned more than once. Please read at your own discretion.

** Sam **

* * *

The bunker was quiet, the faint sounds of Sam typing away on his laptop being the only indication of life inside of the underground shelter. He had been feverishly looking for a way to stop Amara, his bloodshot eyes, and table littered with empty cups of coffee, a perfect reflection of his relentless search and lack of sleep. In a way, he was trying to distract himself from his concerns about his older brother, Dean, who had been acting strange ever since Castiel had disappeared a few weeks ago. Neither of them had any idea where the angel had went, and anytime Sam tried to ask his older brother what had happened between the two of them, Dean would shut him out. Sam wanted desperately to help him, but he knew better than to be intrusive whenever his sibling was upset.  
  
Dean was his brother and the two of them had spent decades together. He knew his tells, when he was lying, or trying to hide something about himself, and the repercussions that came from prying too much, so (naturally) he knew right away when Dean had begun to develop feelings for Castiel. It was endearing, watching the two of them interact - both of them completely in love, but unable to speak a word of it to each other. In fact, Dean had been keeping his desires secret for years, which was baffling to Sam. Was he worried about acceptance? Rejection? Because he knew Castiel was longing to tell Dean how he felt. He could see it in his eyes whenever the angel looked at him, leaning forward ever so slightly during their discussions, as though he were trying to get as close as possible to Dean without giving away his secret. The way they would lock eyes with one another, how quickly Castiel would arrive whenever Dean called for him, and how angry his brother became at the sight of Cass injured in any way. It was blatantly obvious, yet neither of them saw it.  
  
Sam had been expecting them to confess their desires for months, getting his hopes up on more than one occasion, only to have them brought back down whenever Dean would change the subject, or Castiel would suddenly disappear. He hoped they would admit it soon, in case things went south with the Darkness. Sam often wished that Dean and Cass weren't a part of the hunter lifestyle so that they could live together, somewhere peaceful, oblivious to the dangers that were out there. Then again, they had both tried to have that kind of life in the past, and both of them ended up returning sooner than he would have liked. He considered telling one of them that he was aware of their affections; that he was accepting of it and wanted to help them confess. But, he felt like that would be too intrusive. He wasn't trying to play matchmaker, he only wanted his brother to be happy.  
  
The sound of running water echoed through the silent halls, causing Sam to lift his head from his work and turn in the direction of the noise.  
  
"Dean's up." he mumbled to himself, pressing his aching body up and off of the chair, stiff from a long night of sitting.  
  
He yawned, his lengthy arms outstretched in a long, drawn out motion, releasing pressure in his spine and shoulders. He grumbled and made his way to the bathroom, taking his time due to the numbness in his legs.

**Dean**

* * *

The older Winchester stood in the bathroom, alone, his hands gripping the brim of the sink as he leaned his body weight against the porcelain. In front of him was a mirror, it's reflective surface cracked and broken. The shards of glass clung desperately to the edge of the frame, threatening to fall at any moment. He hung his head low, his eyes staring blankly at the flowing water. Tiny beads of sweat littered his forehead, dripping from his hair and nose. His skin had become a pale white, translucent and tinted a sickly green due to the swirling threat in his stomach. He too had suffered through a sleepless night, only managing a couple hours of rest before his nightmares had woken him in a cold sweat. It had been weeks since the incident, but the images were still fresh in his mind. He had tried to distract himself with cases, or research, but they would always return. Whether he was awake, or asleep, he couldn't escape those memories. His hands shook against the smooth brim of the sink, reverberating amongst the clutter that littered it's surface.  
  
"Dean?" Sam asked, his knuckles tapping lightly against the bathroom wall.  
  
Dean cleared his throat, his eyes blinking rapidly as his brother's voice drew him away from his burden.  
  
"Uh, yeah!" he answered, shoving his hands under the water. "What's up?"  
  
He brought the cool liquid to his face, dousing his skin. He had hoped that it would make him appear less pallid, but it only enhanced the sickly shine seeping from his pores.  
  
"Nothing." Sam replied. "Just making sure you're okay."  
  
"I'm fine." Dean cackled, trying his best to sound like his usual, confident self.  
  
"If you're sure." Sam sighed, clearly unconvinced. "There's breakfast on the stove and coffee in the pot."  
  
"Thanks, Sammy." Dean mumbled, hearing the unease in Sam's words  
  
"Don't mention it." Sam said, turning away from Dean to head back to work. "I'll be in the study."  
  
"Alright." Dean said, his gaze straining beneath pursed brows as his eyes followed his brother's worry wrought retreat, reflected in the shattered pieces of the mirror.  
  
He wanted desperately to confide in him, to tell him what had happened all those weeks ago. He knew the mystery was eating away at his brother. He often asked if he was okay and, no matter how many times he had told him that he was, he knew that Sam wasn't buying any of it. He understood that it was his own fault for refusing Sam's care, but he couldn't talk about it. He would always freeze, the words catching in his throat. He didn't want to remember - didn't want to reopen the wounds still healing from the torment. This sort of thing doesn't happen to men; this sick and twisted act of sexual abuse. They didn't have time to sit around to talk and wait for him to recover. They had a threat to deal with. There was no point to wasting their energy on new concerns; _distractions_.

After a few moments of rinsing his face, Dean started down the hall, making his way towards the kitchen. He stopped at the entryway and took a deep breath as flashes of the incident cascaded through him, drowning out his senses and rendering him motionless. This sort of turmoil had become habitual for Dean, his body dreading going into the kitchen whenever he needed food, or drink, as though every bone in his body were expecting an ambush. He swallowed hard, his legs shaking as he tried to take a step forward, unable to shift his foot past the door frame.  
  
"Get in. Get out." he said, trying to reassure himself. "Just make it quick."  
  
He took a deep breath and stepped forward, plowing through to the stove top. He quickly grabbed a piece of toast, the bread crumbling against the force of his grip as he shoved it into his mouth. He followed up with a mug, swiftly bringing the coffee pot over to pour himself a much needed serving of caffeine. In his haste, he accidentally over-poured, the liquid pooling at the brim until the surface tension broke, allowing the dark liquid to soak the counter. His hand fumbled to reach for a dish towel. In his panicked state he only managed a pitiful toss of the cloth, his shaking hands unable to attempt to wipe the counter clean. He took the cup in his hand and made a break for the doorway, it's contents spilling, leaving a trail along the floor as he moved. Once he reached the doorway, his broad frame relaxed, relief clear in his features. He released the imprisoned gulp of air he had been holding onto in a long, drawn out sigh.

"See?" he said to himself, his voice cracking at the tip. "Totally fine."  
  
He brought the hot coffee to his lips and blew on it, his quaking legs managing to carry him into the study where he brother quietly waited for him. His nose was seemingly glued within a book, the tip of it brushing against the parchment as he read. Dean's body continued to tremble as he sat down, the porcelain mug clinking against the table as his restless hands slowly set it against the wooden surface. Though he acted as though he hadn't noticed, Dean was well aware of Sam's attentive peripheral gaze. He reached for a book from the neatly organized stack that his brother had built and began to read, doing his best to concentrate on the words scrawled across the pages, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.

**~ ~ ~**

A few hours passed before the two of them stumbled upon a passage called ' _The Hand of God_ '' in one of the older, much larger books. It explained, in little detail, about items that the lord himself had touched, granting them immense power. Enough power that the two of them hoped it would help aid them in taking down Amara.  
  
"We should call Cass." Sam stated excitedly, leaning over the table, his finger dabbing rapidly against the page. "This is right up his alley! I mean, he is an angel, he's got to know something."  
  
Dean had been dreading those words for weeks. He knew the suggestion would come up at some point. After all, it was customary nowadays for the two of them to rely on Castiel for information and guidance. Normally he would jump at the occasion to summon their angel companion, exhilarated to have him join them on their hunt, but this time was different, and he had no way of countering the proposal without talking about...  _it_.

"I'll call him." Dean said, his voice quaking with his compliance.  
  
"Great!" Sam beamed. "We could really use his help with this one."  
  
Dean gave him a forced smile as he reached for his cellphone, his hand gripping the plastic tightly, causing his knuckles to turn white. He stared at the black screen, his dread filled expression reflected on its mirrored surface. Everything in his body was telling him to stop, to leave his phone off and walk away, but his mind was telling him to go along with this charade for a little while longer. He couldn't tell Sam about what happened. Not yet. Not until he figured out what was going on. He knew he was denying the truth, but he also knew that there was no fathomable way that Castiel would attempt such an act of abuse. Not Cass. There had to be something wrong, something that he wasn't seeing controlling his vessel, or even his mind. But, the one thing he could not deny - the one thing that trumped all of his theories - was that kiss. In that moment there had been no one else inside of that vessel but Cass.

But, the fact that he had almost ra-  
  
"That wasn't him..." he interrupted, his thoughts halting in an instant, not realizing that he had spoken out loud.  
  
"What?" Sam asked.  
  
"N-nothing." Dean stammered, his anxieties swirling together into a deafening cacophony of fears and concerns.

He scrolled through the long list of contacts until his thumb settled on the name _Castiel_. He froze, his hand shaking as he slowly read each letter, one at a time, the symbols beginning to wiggle and blur as his stomach began to churn once again. He never thought it would come to this - never considered that he could one day become so afraid of the seraph - but it happened, in an instant, and there was no going back. Even if something proved to be wrong with the angel - even if it truly wasn't Castiel who had hurt him - he would never get those images out of his head. He pressed the dial icon and waited, slowly raising the phone to his ear. It started to ring...

... once...  
  
... twice...  
  
"Hello, _Dean_."

A violent shudder tore across the older brother's body as Castiel's low, gruff voice seeped into his ears, sending goosebumps across his neck. He swallowed hard, his eyes starting to swell as the fear he had experienced during their last encounter returned with fervor, overwhelming him. It was as though he were choking on air, unable to breathe or speak. He could sense the satisfaction seeping through the phone, the being on the other end of the line relishing in Dean's terror. The Winchester cleared his throat and stood, distancing himself from the table to allow for an easy retreat should he need to leave the room. He could feel Sam's eyes on his back, watching carefully. As much as Dean appreciated his brother's concern, he decided to extend the gap between himself and Sam, not wanting him to overhear their conversation in case Castiel should mention any unnecessary information.  
  
"Hey, Cass." Dean answered, trying his best to sound calm. "We think we've found something to help take down Amara. We'd like it if you could come and check it out."

**Sam**

* * *

Sam couldn't hear their conversation, no matter how hard he strained. He felt like an intrusive mother, spying on her children. He ceased his efforts, slouching against the back of his chair as he watched Dean talk to the seraph. He was so good at talking with women, appearing confident, suave, but when it came to Castiel he was a train wreck. He seemed like his usual, awkward self in this case, but something was different. It wasn't nervousness, or unspoken affection. It was something bad. He couldn't quite place it.  
  
"Alright." Dean said, hanging up the phone. "He's on his way."  
  
"Great!" Sam replied. "I'll admit I've missed having the guy around."

Sam watched as Dean lifted a hand to his mouth and rubbed his lips, the other hand resting against his hip. His body slouched, his posture not as refined and assertive as it usually was. He seemed to be crumbling, slowly, folding into himself as he focused on whatever thoughts were parading through his mind.

"I'm sure _you_ have too." Sam said in an effort to draw him away from those concerns and into - what he hoped would be - a pleasant conversation.

All he received in return was a halfhearted smile and an avoiding gaze. He had hoped to have gotten a little bit more information out of Dean, but, as usual, his brother's issues were not up for discussion. Sam had never seen his brother in a state like this. Dean had always been the tough one, putting up a strong front to protect his loved ones, even when he was the one suffering the most. He would put his own concerns aside if it meant that he could defend someone else. Sammy had always admired that about him, but that man was long gone. He had been replaced with someone Sam didn't recognize. He seemed so fragile, as though he could break apart at any moment. This wasn't Dean he grew up with and it pained him to see him in such a state.  
  
Through pursed brows, he watched his brother shuffle about, his skin gradually loosing it's warmth; it's color. It may be none of his business, but Sam couldn't prevent the unease that was washing over him. It had always been his job as the younger brother to be the one to console Dean. He was the reassurance his brother needed, the one who desperately tried to make everything better, and Dean had always been his number one patient. It may not seem like his words ever did much, but he knew better. Through his tough exterior, Sam knew that his words always reached Dean in some way, helping him pull through. This time, his words were doing little, and his brother refused to let him help. He had no idea what to do, or how to aid him, and it was driving him crazy.

** Dean **

* * *

Dean needed his brother in this moment; needed his comforting words and advice. He had invited his assaulter back into the bunker. He had succumbed to fear and allowed this monster to return to his home, and he had no idea why. Why couldn't he speak out? Why was he so weak? Why was he so hopeful that this thing wasn't Castiel when he knew, deep down, that it was? His mind was in shambles, unable to cope with the truth looming over him like a dark cloud. It was there, clear as day in his memories. Castiel had assaulted him, his Cass, the angel that he had been crushing on ever since he first saw him in that beat up old barn all those years ago. Cass, the one who had allowed him to explore his closeted sexuality after years of hiding it from the world. Something as beautiful, kind, and virtuous as Castiel... would never have done such a horrific thing, but... he couldn't deny that kiss. That one brief moment where he  _knew_ he had touched Castiel. That gesture had been so pure, so genuine and innocent that there was no possible way that it could have been the same angel threatening to rape him a few moments later. It unsettled him how drastically Castiel had changed. It was as though a flip had been switched inside of him, turning him into someone completely different.   
  
"Dean?"  
  
Sam's words broke him from the rush of thoughts flowing through him, his eyes fluttering as his subconscious began to slow back down to a bearable pace.  
  
"Yeah?" Dean grumbled.  
  
"You okay?" he asked, his brows upturned with worry.  
  
"Yeah! Yeah... just tired." he admitted, the statement being a half truth.  
  
He returned to his seat at the table and rubbed his eyes, his brother watching him carefully for a few moments before resuming his task. Dean pretended to do the same, his eyes unable to focus on any of the pages in front of him. Every word seemed to blend together into a blurred mess of paper and ink, his stomach still threatening sick as he tried to keep himself still.

**~ ~ ~**

Hours passed. Silent, dragging hours of reading dozens of passages, scraping together every vague mention of the Darkness, or a hand of god, that they could find. Sam worked endlessly on putting together a chart containing all of the clues and information that they had managed to gather for one particular weapon: a piece of the ark of the covenant. It had been brought on board a military vessel called the USS Bluefinn, destined for American shores. The item was being carried by a woman named Delphine Seydoux, a woman of letters. Sadly, the vessel had foundered, killing every soul on board. The wreckage was never recovered. It was the most information they had found on any of the weapons thus far, and they were hopeful that Castiel would know a spell to pinpoint the submarine, or an incantation to lift it from the depths of the sea. It didn't seem like a plausible solution, but was the only option they had.

"I hope this is enough." Sam mumbled to himself, taking a look at the board from a few feet away.  
  
"I keep forgetting he can't teleport anymore." Dean mumbled through his fingers, his jaw resting against his hand.

Sam replied with a mumble, his focus having shifted towards one of the many books scattered across the table, his eyes scanning over the opened pages. The wait had been misery for Dean, his mind unable to focus on anything other than the foreboding knowledge that Castiel would be arriving soon. He didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to run, to hide, but his body was frozen. Would he be able to keep his composure in front of Sam? If that thing wasn't Cass, would it try to kill them both? His mind was a torrent of questions, his thoughts choosing the worst possible outcome in answer to anything he dared to ask.  
  
"I hope he gets here soon." he said, pleading for the awful wait to be over. "I'm tired of reading this book."  
  
"Dean, you've been on that same page for the last hour." Sam stated.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Then, the bunker doors creaked open, breaking the silence. Dean's heart sank into his stomach as the sound of descending footsteps echoed into the study. Beads of sweat began to decorate his forehead and all of the color began to drain from his face, his abdomen convulsing as nausea threatened to overcome him. He saw the angel's black shoes, his pants, the edges of his over coat, all appearing one by one as he made his way down the winding staircase. As soon as his head was visible, his blue eyes locked on Dean, sending him spiraling.  
  
"Hello, _Dean_. Sam."  
  
"Hey, Cass!" Sam called out excitedly.  
  
Dean lifted his fingers in a pathetic attempt at a wave, his eyes not daring to look at the angel; to meet with those deep blues. He could feel Castiel watching him, his gaze burning a hole into the hunter's head. His breathing became faster, his body trying desperately to keep his panic quiet.

**Sam**

* * *

The tension in the room was thick. Sam could feel it, as though he were breathing in smoke. His brother appeared nauseous, the tint of green in his cheeks a clear threat of the inevitable swirling within his stomach. Meanwhile, Castiel appeared to be perfectly fine, unfazed by Dean's behavior. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it. He had the most wicked smile on his face, his eyes scanning Dean up and down as though he were a trophy that the angel had won; an achievement. It seemed like a loving gesture, as though he were proud of his affections for Dean, but there was something devilish hidden beneath his attentive glance; something foreboding. It made Sam uneasy, taken aback by the angel's strange behavior.

He had hoped that bringing Castiel to the bunker would not only help them in finding out more about the various hands of god that existed in the world, but maybe it would also help Dean; allow him to interact with Castiel after the two of them had been apart for so long. So far, it seemed to be doing the exact opposite, making everything that much worse and confusing.

"Where's the information you would like for me to examine?" Castiel asked, shifting his attention to Sam.  
  
"Oh!" Sam exclaimed, his mind shifting back to the task at hand. "Here."  
  
He stood from his seat and walked Castiel over to the board, it's surface coated in chapter excerpts, photos, and various notes that Sam had made with regards to the piece of the ark of the covenant. The seraph examined each one carefully, soaking up the information like a sponge. He seemed enthusiastic, almost as much as Sam had been upon discovering it.  
  
"There were several God touched objects, but it never occurred to me that any survived the flood, let alone the 20th century."  
  
"Do you think we could use it against Amara?" Sam asked.   
  
"It’s perfect." Castiel replied, that wicked grin returning at the edges of his lips.

**Dean**

* * *

Dean dared a glance, watching as Sam and Castiel interacted with one another. If there was something, or someone controlling the angel, it wasn't very obvious to Dean. He sounded like himself. He had the same awkward mannerisms, the same dirty over coat, and the same low, gruff voice that was particular only to him. Had he been wrong? Surely this wasn't Cass? Was he a shape shifter? A doppelganger? Was he possessed? His mind was wringing itself dry on explanations, unable to keep up with the relentless interrogation; inquiries cascading, one after the other, overflowing his subconscious. He couldn't find a suitable answer. No matter how hard he tried, he would always arrive back at the same question: _Am I lying to myself?_

"I can get you back there." Castiel stated confidently, drawing Dean away from his theories.  
  
"Without wings?" Sam questioned. "Cass, you can’t even teleport."  
  
"Time travel is… uh… a whole different system."

Dean watched Castiel through partially closed lids as he spoke. The older Winchester had always been good at reading people. He could spot those little unconscious actions that betrayed people's attempts at deception, seeing through their lies, or whether or not they were hiding small tidbits of information. Castiel had proven to be formidable when it came to spotting his - almost - nonexistent tells, but Dean had known Cass long enough to see when something was amiss. In this case, Dean had spotted a lie, something relatively uncharacteristic for the angel.

There was some shred of honesty in the angel's words, accompanied by a strong presence of deception. Could he travel through time in his current state? Dean recalled how much strength it had taken for Castiel to send him back in time, as well as enduring the retrieval a few hours later. It drained him, even when he had been at full power. Yes, Castiel had recovered a small sliver of his grace, but that minuscule amount hadn't been enough to allow him to teleport, so Dean was certain that it wouldn't be nearly enough for him to even begin traveling through time.

He looked at his brother, who also appeared to be puzzled by Cass' statement. Sammy was smart and equally as good at reading tells in other people as his brother was. Seeing him overcome with doubt made Dean confident in his assumptions, the two of them sharing the same silent uncertainty behind their angel's claim of power. There was something wrong with Castiel and that small shred of knowledge was both a relief, and a burden for Dean. He wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of this and free Cass from whatever had it's hold on him.. and to get it as far away from them as possible.

"Wait a second." Sam interrupted. "Cass, aren’t there still risks with time travel? I mean, aren’t there consequences-"

Dean remembered their past adventures through space and time and how it had proven to be more dangerous than they had initially thought. They had already done a number on their era with Abaddon and the events that transpired because of their involvement with her. Because of this mistake, he knew the rules and consequences when it came to traversing through time quite well, but - as much as he disliked the idea - this was their only shot. If they wanted to defeat the darkness, they needed help, and, at the moment, this was their best chance to secure a weapon that could aid them in their fight.  
  
"Sam." Dean interrupted. "This is the ideal scenario."  
  
"What?"   
  
"That sub is a tin can floating in the middle of the ocean doomed to go down." Dean explained. "You can’t really mess with history at 20 thousand leagues. So get in, get the weapon, and get out. It’s a milk run."  
  
"I mean… it’s not a very good plan." Sam admitted.

Sammy had a point. Dean knew this wasn't a very solid course of action, for more reasons that his brother realized. This whole situation had escalated into such a complicated mess that Dean wasn't certain if he could remain silent about it for much longer. 

"Well if things get out of hand then Cass will just zap me right back." Dean said, though his words didn't sound convincing in the slightest.  
  
"You?" Sam spat.  
  
Dean's face shifted to a look of unyielding resolve. "You’re not going."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You need to stay here." he demanded.  
  
"Stay here?" Sam shouted.  
  
"Just in case things go sideways," Dean stated. "Somebody needs to be left standing to take care of the darkness."

Ever since he and Amara had first interacted with one another, Dean knew that they shared a bond. There was no possible way that he could kill her and, deep down, he knew that he wasn't coming out of the end fight alive. Sam was the only one who would be able to stand up to her. He had tried to discuss this with him on more than one occasion, but Sammy would always deny it, resorting to half baked encouragements; saying ' _everything will be okay_ ' when they both knew damn well that it wouldn't. They couldn't deny the inevitable for much longer.

"We can’t risk us both and, at the moment, I’m the least valuable player. You both know that I can’t kill Amara, the least I could do is get the thing that we need so that you can!"  
  
"So you expect me to sit here and ride the pine while you and Cass go play Jules Vern?"  
  
"Yes!" Dean snapped, though his face soon shifted to confusion as he tried to process what his brother had said. "No, I… _who_?"  
  
"I won’t let him out of my sight." Cass stated, interrupting their brotherly squabble.  
  
"You’ll stay by his side the entire time?" Sam asked, his eyes reflecting his concerns, as though he were begging Castiel to protect his brother.  
  
"I will." the angel assured.

Castiel reach over and gripped Dean’s shoulder tightly, the gesture feeling more like a threat, rather than an encouragement. Dean shuddered against his touch, his body quaking as the horrific visions returned in a violent torrent of flashes and groans. He tried his best to appear comforted by the angel’s touch, but his eyes betrayed him. They swelled with tears, the hunter trying his best to force them back; to prevent them from falling.

Knowing that he shared a link with Amara was troubling enough. Now, there was more on Dean's plate that he would have liked. The addition of Castiel's strange behavior and his long developed feelings for the angel had collided into a baffling series of events, resulting in a great deal of damage to Dean's psyche. He had never felt so weak, so restless in his thoughts and actions, questioning everything; doubting his own mind.

He had to protect Sam. He had to keep him away from Castiel until he figured out what was wrong with the seraph. Right now, their angelic companion was a monster, and there was no way that he was going to put Sam through the same suffering that he had endured all those weeks ago. He had to persevere, even if it meant enduring the company of his abuser - anything to keep his brother safe.  
  
"Sam... Let me do this." Dean begged earnestly. "Okay, I _need_ to do this."

He could tell that his brother wasn't exactly pleased with this plan, but he saw the silent acceptance wash over his features as he mumbled, "Be safe."  
  
"When am I not?" Dean joked, pleased to hear his younger brother chuckle at his words. "Let’s do this Cass."

The angel kept a tight grip on Dean’s shoulder, as though he were preventing him from running away; from getting out of this decision. Dean was committed, though he couldn’t deny his fear. He was scared – terrified of what Castiel had planned for him. Was he going to take him somewhere far away so that they could have another rape session? Or was he going to abandon him alone on the Bluefinn with no way of returning home? Both suggestions sounded less than desirable.

The only thought keeping Dean level headed was knowing that Sam was safe, even if it was only for a few moments. Besides, Castiel had already done a number on him that he doubted he would ever recover from. What more could he possibly do? He tried his best to appear self-assured, hoping that his layered clothing was successfully hiding the uncontrollable shaking in his legs and arms. He tried to smile, only managing a brittle upturn of the right side of his mouth as he bellowed, "Bon voyage!"

Then, in an instant, a bright, white light enveloped him, encompassing his body. He could feel a strong force pulling him backwards, his skin being pushed against the pressure. His eyes strained, trying to stay open as he struggled to keep his head up, forcing his neck forward and using it as a brace against the weight of the impact. Then, it was gone. What had felt like a minute or two of struggle had actually been a few seconds.

He stood in a dimly lit room, his eyes trying to adjust to the muted colors. He watched as shades of warm browns and ambers filled in the grays and off-whites of his surroundings, as though he were looking at an old photograph from the 40's. Surrounding him were the sleeping forms of the Bluefinn’s crew members, their snores barely audible beneath the roaring pipes, churning and working to keep the submarine moving.

He chuckled, putting a hand to his forehead in disbelief. Castiel had done his job, with seemingly no evil intentions. He was on the Bluefinn, unharmed, with all of his organs intact and no threat to his body or mind; at least, for the moment. He wondered if whatever had been ailing the angel was now gone. Maybe traversing through time kicked it? Or perhaps the end goal was more important? Whatever the case, he was a bit more optimistic about his decision. He raised his brows in bewilderment as he turned to face the angel, his expression soon falling as his eyes met with the metal wall of the submarine.

"Cass?" he whispered.

He turned in place, his eyes searching through the dim, desperately looking for the seraph. He checked the corners of the room, under beds, the ceiling, everywhere in the tight space, but there was no sign of the angel. The single shred of hope that he had felt for a few brief moments vanished into thin air as he slowly succumbed to the realization that he had been abandoned by Castiel. He was alone on the Bluefinn with no way to return to his time. 

"Son of a bitch..." he quietly growled, pressing his back against the cool metal of the ship's interior.

He did his best to keep quiet, not wanting to wake the group of soldiers sleeping inches away from him. He was filled with so many conflicting emotions; fear and anger being the most prominent. He started to panic, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he considered his next course of action.

"Find Delphine." he whispered, shutting his eyes. "Find Delphine."

He pushed himself from the wall and began to make his way through the vessel, hiding from the crew, repeating the same statement over and over in his head, as though it were a mantra, trying desperately to remain calm. The only thing he could do was secure that weapon and hope that his brother would find a way to bring him home before the ship goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect so much positive feedback on this story, and I never expected it to write more than one chapter. Thank you all so much for the kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. I hope this follow up chapter did the first one justice.
> 
> The third chapter will be posted sometime after the holidays. More than likely in January. I've got most of it written, but it needs serious editing and proof reading. Thank you for your patience.


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